I was going to say something cynical about getting back to the mushy stuff .. but I'll let it pass on this. I wrote this for Bops, of course, and I think I entered it in a poetry competition at Christ College's Spring Fest that year. Did not win, evidently .. and soon after I lost Bops too .. was whisked away from Bangalore in an attempt by my desperate parents to save me from that terrible Coorgi boy who had ruined my life (and by a strange coincidence, his equally desperate parents were at the very same time hugely relieved to see the departure of that terrible Muslim girl who had ruined their son's life). After writing this, I don't think I wrote any poems for a long time.
Do falling stars grant wishes?
Do twilight dreams come true?
My nightmares turn to golden dust
with a soft caress from you.
You give my dawns their hope,
Carried on fresh breeze.
You give my afternoons theirlanguid warmth.
You bring my nights their peace.
One look, one word, one gentle touch
And all my dreams come true
I want to live forever
If forever means with you.
(for Bops Feb/Mar? 1987. Spring Fest).
I can't be cynical about this one. It's too sweet and it brings up too much sadness, and although I can no longer connect to those feelings, it touches me that I once was the person who said this and meant it, and that gives me a sense of loss .. not so much for him, but for that Me that I no longer am.